Christian, seek not yet repose,
Cast thy dreams of ease away;
Thou art in the midst of foes:
Watch and pray.

Canaan has for thee been won,
Christ triumphant led the way;
In His might possess thine own!
Watch and pray.

In the heavenlies see that land,
Satan would thine entrance stay;
Thou against his wiles must stand:
Watch and pray.

all faith was lost in a caravan car park with seats reclined,
a family of four, small and contorted, wrapped
around a car for an uncomfortable night of no sleep,
and for the soundtrack:
                                                propeller blades of the port and a grown man weeping.

now we understand and gather and know and grasp the concept of loss,
now it's a:
                                                brother to a younger sister
                                                and now a lost son to forever mother
                                                and a lonely child to a missed father,
                                                insurance-won't-be-done-on-time
                                                because the route-master turned up late.

now loss can never be found so it stays stuck in memory,
now memory is:
                                              reverse the car into the garage and don't stop for the wall,
                                              or bend over double and crawl into the back of a van
                                              duck down because you're tall for your age.

so now you're no longer and when this is realised
i will write this up into a stage play for you
to hide and conceal and disguise the face that will undoubtedly bloom in tears.

*Earlier my eyes wandered looking for someone through a window watching the main street in the rain. It's been a year and still you've missed the refrain, we'll try again on the chorus perhaps next year sometime.

One skin.

Two bodies,
But
One skin.

When you weep,
Salt tastes my lips.

When you draw me,
Our one skin
Thickens.

When you read to me,
Because it is you,
I hear every word silently,
For when your eyes
Acquire them,
So do I.

Your thoughts are
My thoughts,
Mine, yours.

So we speak but little,
But love each other
Quietly, with much fanfare.

And

When you write,
It as if you write upon our
One skin,
For I am your tablet,
Your sole/sol/soul composition.

So stop kissing me
and
Write upon us.

7/7/8:00am

For the Disney print princess
who knows what she's about,
who finds fascinating worlds within dust cover jackets,
who sends smiles in parenthesis; lost love brackets
over classroom mid-drifts,
a bare silence interrupted by pure kindness;
for who walks in noise behind inaudible
commuters from this station to that station
all the way home and back out again on her family vacation,
who can match and pair t-shirts and jeans with
bowler hat crowns from the palace of queens,
who, for all we know, could eat with elbows on tables
and read not prose, but short fiction fables,
who wouldn’t hold doors open or say thank you
to bus men and their drivers,
who might smoke away her pay
with great plumes almost every day,

who might not be the girl I thought she was.

So summer is coming and I'm getting worried.
Worried about each calorie that enters through my body.
Worried that I look too fat to be presentable in public.
Worried that people will mocking me when I put on a swim suit.
I wish I wouldn't eat as much as I do, because today and girl who is 5'9 and weighs 130 pounds is fat.
I don't have a disorder. My reflection does.
I look in the mirror and see a fat, overweight, lard staring back at me.
I think of the perfect body I will never have. This idea of beauty that society has infected my mind with.  
The media flashes about weight loss and fitness. They say people will love you. You will love you. Well let me tell you something. Even just for the mere second I listened to the false words that spilled into my head and rang through my ears, I was destroyed.
There was no hope for me because my weakness took over.
Not ever do people hear that they are beautiful for who they are. You don't have to be thin and tall to be beautiful. Skinny is just a word. Not a definition. I'm finally waking up. Realizing.
I realize that the only thing to conquer this fear is love.
True love, that comes from God.
The one person who won't judge you for who you are or how you look. Because in His eyes, you are the most perfect creation He has ever made.